


A Ghost of a Chance

by Leela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, HP: Epilogue Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 02:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco and Albus are alone in Malfoy Manor. Well, except for a house-elf, Lucius Malfoy's portrait, and a Malfoy ghost, who might just have plans for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Ghost of a Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Written in August 2010 for marguerite_26's [One Plot, Many Pairings](http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/404574.html) challenge.
> 
>  **Beta** : eeyore9990

"I don't care, Draco. My mother is only in town for one night, and she wants to see her grandchildren." A sly expression crossed Astoria's face, sending a puff of green smoke up the chimney. "Unless you're still intimidated by Potter men?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco huffed. "He's nineteen. How much trouble can he be?"

"Precisely," she said, then her voice gentled. "I know this is awkward for you, and I appreciate your willingness to compromise."

Some days Draco regretted marrying such an astute woman. Pansy had been utterly oblivious to his feelings for people who weren't her. Wanting to change the subject, he nodded and said, "Give your mother my regards, and tell Scorpius and Electra to take care of each other." He didn't need to add _because your mother won't_ ; he knew Astoria understood that as well.

"I'll be there the whole time. I promise." She smiled at him. "Be good to yourself, Draco, and try to have a little fun for a change." And then she ended the fire call without giving him time to come up with an appropriate response.

Sitting back on his heels, Draco stared at the flames. Damn, but he loved that woman. If she'd only been male, she'd have been nearly perfect. Nearly, he repeated, determined to convince himself and to avoid any thoughts about what was perfect.

Rather than contemplate the image that his mind conjured, he pushed himself to his feet and went in search of Albus Potter.

o)*(o

Draco found Albus in the library, standing in front of Draco's father's portrait.

"Are you sure?" Albus was asking Lucius.

"Quite." Lucius smirked and then winked at Albus before turning to greet Draco.

"Father," Draco managed, astounded by the idea of Lucius Malfoy winking. At someone he'd sneered at for being Weasley-Potter spawn, no less. It wasn't the most mind-boggling thing he'd learned about his late father from this portrait done when Lucius had been in his early twenties, but it came damn close.

"You all right?"

The unexpected concern expressed by Albus was another shock. None of Scorpius's friends had ever seemed remotely interested in anything about Draco but his willingness to let them run rampant around the manor. Especially Albus, who was everything that Potter should have been, could have been — _even queer_ , Draco's inner voice offered unhelpfully.

"Hey." The word was as soft as the brief touch of Albus's hand on Draco's forearm.

Draco blinked hard and gave Albus a jerky nod, the kind that always left him feeling like a jack-in-the-box. He cleared his throat. "Scorpius is staying with his mother tonight, visiting with his grandmother."

"Oh." Albus tilted his head, a calm and considering expression on his face. The only evidence of his disappointment — and Draco was sure it must be that — was the way the fingers of his left hand tapped his thigh. "You'll be wanting me to leave, then? Come back tomorrow?"

"No." The denial was out before Draco could stop it, and he blamed his recent shocks for that lapse. There were, after all, only so many surprises a wizard could be expected to bear and remain stoic. But a grin blossomed on Albus's face, and Draco could not regret succumbing to the impulse.

Albus plucked at his ratty, paint-splattered jeans. "I'll just go upstairs and get changed for dinner."

Before Draco could respond, Albus had dashed out the door. So he turned to his father's portrait, intending to ask what they'd been talking about, but the frame was empty. With a sense of disquiet and looming conspiracy, Draco left the room.

o)*(o

"Tibby is sorry," the house-elf said, wringing her hands and pulling at her long, droopy ears. "Master Potter is not in his rooms. Tibby is not finding Master Potter in the whole wing."

Noticing that the elf was about to bang her head on the corner of the table, Draco moved to stop her, having no desire to incur another fine from the Office for the Prevention of Cruelty to House-Elves or, Merlin forfend, be forced to attend another drearily pompous lecture on the acceptable treatment of house-elves. "Albus Potter's not your responsibility, Tibby. Do not punish yourself for his tardiness."

As soon as he was sure the elf had calmed down, Draco made a sharp gesture of dismissal. Then, shoving his chair back from the table, he stalked off to check on Albus's room. _The room assigned to Albus_ , he corrected himself. Just because the boy had stayed in the same room since Scorpius had brought him home from Hogwarts for a visit in their first year didn't mean it belonged to him.

The room, of course, was empty. The jeans and t-shirt flung across the bottom of the bed and the half-open wardrobe door were the only evidence of Albus's presence.

Draco snarled in frustration and worry. Albus knew better than to leave this wing of the manor. All of Scorpius's friends had been told and better told not to even attempt to break into the other wings or the main house. The Aurors had sealed off the rest of the manor against anyone or anything but house-elves, ghosts, and portraits for damn good reasons.

He seized the wardrobe door, intending to slam it shut, _loudly_ , and the room spun around him.

o)*(o

Long experience with the strange and dark magic still infesting so much of the manor had Draco trying to relax as much as possible. Unfortunately, that didn't prevent him from being bruised and jarred when the spell or Portkey or whatever the fuck it was dropped him from mid-air.

"Mr Malfoy!"

At Albus's voice and the touch of his cold hands, Draco forced himself to open his eyes. He stared upwards, directly into Albus's eyes. They were the same green as Potter's, differentiated only by the flecks of gold that always seemed to catch the candlelight and Draco's attention.

Draco groaned. Potter was going to kill him.

"Are you hurt?" Albus patted Draco's head and torso. "I didn't think you'd landed that hard."

"I'm fine." Draco grasped Albus's hands to prevent them from going any further down. "A trifle surprised, I'll admit, but I've survived far worse."

Sitting up, he glanced around. With the thick grey stone, they had to be in one of the old dungeons. Not one he recognised, though, and he thought he'd been dragged through all of them when — he redirected his thoughts from that path and examined his surroundings more carefully.

The room was tiny, and had neither a door nor windows. Unlike the other manor dungeons Draco had seen, it contained a small, slatted wooden bench and a miniscule bookcase crammed with books that shimmered with protection and preservation charms.

A memory of his grandmother and her stories about a hidden room and the priests who'd lived in it centuries earlier flashed through his mind. She hadn't known where it was located, but this had to be it. "The priest hole," he said, marvelling.

"Really?" Albus bounced to his feet and went over to the bookcase. "So these are what? Catholic books? Ancient grimoires?" He reached out to touch one of them. The charms crackled and sizzled and sent him flying across the room to land on top of Draco.

Air whooshed out of Draco as Albus's weight hit his stomach, and he automatically clutched Albus as he fell backwards. He lay there for a moment, with Albus sprawled on top of him. As soon as he'd caught his breath, he pushed himself back into a sitting position.

Albus slipped down and across Draco's lap. His eyes were closed, his breathing was even, and he seemed to be unconscious. Without thinking, Draco reached down and brushed the hair out of Albus's eyes. Then he traced the planes of Albus's face with his fingertips, feeling the tiny scar that marred one eyebrow, the slight indents that were all that remained from a bout of teenage acne, the dent in his chin, and the full bottom lip.

This wasn't supposed to happen, he thought. Not with any of Scorpius's friends, and certainly not with Potter's son. _But it has, you dunderhead_ , sneered an inner voice that sounded terrifyingly like his old Head of House. _Either get over yourself and do something about it, or get yourself re-sorted._

Draco huffed, and Albus snickered.

Looking down, Draco realised two things: his fingertip still rested on Albus's lip, and Albus was staring at him intently. He was going to say something and lift his hand. However, Albus parted his lips, a damp, wet tongue flicked against Draco's skin, and Draco's finger was sucked into Albus's mouth.

The sensation short-circuited Draco's common sense and went straight to his cock. That really was the only reason that Draco began to move his finger, to stroke Albus's tongue and teeth, to slip it in and out of Albus's mouth. Then Albus sucked harder, flattening his tongue and wrapping it around Draco's finger as he drew it in deeper.

They might have remained there like that, staring at each other, Draco barely able to think beyond the way it felt to be inside Albus Potter, even if it were only his finger, and to have Albus's hip pressing on his cock, if one of the manor ghosts hadn't chosen that moment to glide through the wall.

He resembled a picture of a Muggle monk Draco had once seen in a history book. His ancient robes hung in shreds and tatters, floating in an unfelt wind to reveal and hide grievous wounds. His mouth parted on a hiss. He pointed at them and bellowed, "Sodomites. Blasphemers."

Allowing Draco's finger to slip from his mouth with a wet pop, Albus turned his head to regard the ghost and said, "Wonderful, isn't it?"

If a ghost could have had a coronary, that one would have. His mouth opened and shut without speaking, his face became a darker grey, and his robes fairly billowed in the unmoving air. It was amusing, until the ghost began to twirl around and flames spread from its hands and feet. "Burn," the ghost pronounced. "Let the fire cleanse your sins."

o)*(o

Bubble-headed charms were the first spells Draco cast, ensuring they could breathe in the smoke that ought not to be filling the room. Then he got to his feet, bringing Albus with him, and stood with one arm holding Albus as close and safe as the bubble would permit. He raised his other arm, pointing his wand directly at the ghost and began the long and complex curse that evicted Malfoy ghosts from the manor.

Halfway through, the fire had dissipated, the ghost had paled almost to white, and Albus clapped a hand over Draco's mouth and yelled, "Stop!"

Shock coursed through him, along with the backlash from the half-completed spell. A fiery sensation raced along his nerves, and he dropped his wand to clatter on the floor. He'd tried to shake off Albus's hand, to demand why, when bright light flashed through the room, and Draco felt himself falling.

o)*(o

Draco awoke as he always did: neither moving nor opening his eyes before he determined who and what was in the room with him. Dismissing the vague aching of his body as insignificant, he focussed on his surroundings.

He lay on his own bed; he recognised the texture of his silk duvet and the magic that surrounded him with protection. His head was in someone's lap, and fingers were combing through his hair. Albus's lap and Albus's fingers, he amended, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo and soap. He was about to open his eyes, when Albus spoke.

"You promised he wouldn't be hurt." Albus ran a possessive hand down Draco's arm, and it took all Draco had not to respond. "You said—"

"I said it would give you a chance with him," Lucius said. "And from what I can see, it succeeded."

"But what about the ghost? He looked as if—"

"Père Alger is merely disgruntled by his abject failure. A few decades in his dungeon hovel should sort him out quite nicely."

"But—"

"Enough, boy. Stop fretting and get on with it," Lucius snarled. "My son isn't going to lay there all evening waiting for you to gain the courage of your desires."

Albus's hands stilled, and Draco didn't bother to stop himself from sighing at the loss. He opened his eyes and smiled at Albus. There was a pause, sufficiently long for Draco to wonder if Albus was going to run, and then Albus was bending over and shifting Draco's head to the side.

Their kiss was different from the thousands that Draco had experienced before and not just because Albus's mouth was upside-down to Draco's. He darted his tongue in and out, licking and sucking, tasting chocolate and peppermint and warmth and something more that Draco couldn't identify.

A quick check of the portrait facing his bed showed that his father had left. Draco reached up and grasped Albus's upper arms, encouraging him to move. They shifted together, never quite breaking their kiss, until they lay side by side. Albus's arms slid around him, and he pressed against Draco.

Draco slid a hand down to Albus's arse and squeezed. Albus's hips bucked forwards, and Draco's cock was caught against Albus's pelvis, and he could feel Albus's erection digging into the crease where his thigh and hip met.

They shifted, and thrust, and bucked, and fucking undulated. Frotting against each other. Kissing, sucking, licking, biting. Silk dragged over the head of Draco's cock with every movement.

"Oh. Oh. Oh," Albus gasped into Draco's mouth as his movements became frantic. "Please?"

Draco finally remembered the charm to remove clothing. Unsure where his own had ended up, and not caring in that moment, he grabbed Albus's wand out of its holster, from where it had been poking him quite nastily in the thigh. He cast that charm and then let go of Albus's arse and conjured lube into his left hand.

Throwing the wand to one side, he rolled them over until Albus was beneath him.

"You," Albus said and grinned. "That was brilliant."

"Of course it was." Draco smirked and shifted to his knees. He transferred some of the slick to his right hand and then wrapped it around Albus's cock.

"Uh." Albus's head went back, and his legs fell apart, and he thrust into Draco's hand. His fingers flexed on Draco's arm, nails digging in and then releasing.

Mouth dry, erection bobbing as the mattress bounced under Albus's movements, Draco ignored watched him until he could no longer ignore his own need. "I'm going to fuck you," he said and Albus groaned his agreement.

When Draco slid his first finger inside the hot, welcoming tightness of Albus's arse, Albus began to shake. Babbling nonsense accompanied the second finger and the third. And when Draco thrust inside him, Albus's legs wrapped around him and his heels dug in as he arched and pulled, not allowing Draco to hesitate or pause or have any time to enjoy the sensations.

In and out, Draco moved fast. Each time his cock slid past Albus's prostate, they sped up. Albus clung to Draco with his hands and heels, and Draco bent over him. Need and want, desire and arousal burned the aches out of his body and left him pressing in harder and harder, deeper and deeper with every thrust.

Until Albus began to shake, and Draco lost his ability to keep a rhythm. Albus's arse clenched around him, and he arched up, licking his lips, and Draco leant down, bending Albus almost in two, so that they could kiss and groan their orgasms into each other's mouths.

o)*(o

As they lay sweaty and sated on top of the bed, images of Potter arriving to demand satisfaction interrupted Draco's drowsy sense of contentedness. "Your father," he said, knowing Albus would understand the implication.

"Better not complain." Albus lifted his head and grinned at Draco. "When I told him I was gay, he told me it didn't matter who I was with. As long as my partner treated me well, he'd be welcomed into the family with open arms."

Draco snickered. "This is going to be fun." And then he kissed Albus again. Everything else could wait for another day.


End file.
